"Well, Mrs. Purcell," she said then, "I am very sorry I am on your hands. I do not know exactly what to do. I will write to my aunt, and tell her how I am situated, and how _you_ are situated; but till her answer comes, how shall we do?" "She won't send no answer!" said Mrs. Purcell, in a much modified manner however. "Us knows her, Joe and me. She's got what she wants, and she's satisfied. She don't care for my trouble, nor for your trouble. She's great on savin', Mis' Busby is. She don't never pay nothin' she hadn't need to." "I am very sorry," said Rotha bitterly. "I will see if I can find some way of earning the money, Mrs. Purcell, so that I can pay you for the cost and trouble I put you to. But I must have time for that; and meanwhile, what will you do?" "Us wouldn't think so much of it," Mrs. Purcell went on, "if she didn't set up for bein' somethin' o' extras. I don't make no count o' no such Christians. Mis' Busby wouldn't miss the Communion!--" And the speaker looked up at Rotha, as if to see what she thought on the subject. "There are different sorts of Christians," said Rotha. "Meanwhile, how shall we arrange things, Mrs. Purcell?" "Will all sorts of Christians get to heaven," was Mrs. Purcell's response, the query put with her sharp black eyes as well as with her lips. "Why no! Of course not. Christians are not all alike; but it is only true Christians whom the Lord will call his own." "How aint they alike? how is they different?" "Real Christians? Well--some of them are ignorant, and some are wise. Some have had good teachings and good helpers, and some have had none; it makes a difference." "I thought they was all one." "So they are, in the main things. They all love Christ, and trust in his blood, and do his will. So far as they know it, at least. 'Whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother.' So Jesus said, when he was upon earth." Mrs. Purcell stopped in what she was doing and looked up at Rotha. "That aint in my 'little blue John,'" she said. "No, I think the words are in Matthew." "And aint no other people Christians, but them as is like that?" "You know what is written in the fourteenth chapter of John--'He that hath my commandments and _keepeth them_, he it is that loveth me.'" "And aint there no other sort?" inquired Mrs. Purcell, still peering into Rotha's eyes. "Of Christians? Certainly not. Not of real Christians. How could there be?" "Then I don't believe there aint none." "O yes, there are! Many, many. True believers and servants of the Lord Jesus." "Then Prissy Purcell never see one of 'em," said the woman decidedly. It shot through Rotha's mind, how careful she must be. This woman's whole faith in Christianity might depend on how she behaved herself. She stood soberly thinking, and then came back to the immediate matter in hand.